I.
Her eyes crack open, attention drawn to a faint light from the corner of her ornate room. Was someone in there with her? Lucy's body aches as she tries to roll over onto her back. She never sleeps on her stomach – she doesn't really feel like she's slept at all, honestly. There is no sound, so there must not be anyone with her. Thank heavens…
Sitting upright, Lucy feels the full extent of the pain that surges through her arms, her legs… even her toes. What happened? Where was she…?
Her face turns pale, Oh yes… I'm hostage.
Lucy wishes she was in the comfort of loving arms, but there is no love here. Not where she is.
"I'm just going out for a bit, Richie. I'll be home in a little while – please don't follow me." It was a hard day. Nothing was going right.
It seemed like a pattern the past few weeks. With the engagement, with the wedding planning… her mother, her ill father. Lucy finally felt the impact of her emotions, and was growing overwhelmed. Lucy needed a drink – Lucy never drank.
She didn't want to plan the wedding so fast after being asked to marry Richie. This wasn't her idea, but the family was fearful that her father might not be able to walk her down the aisle if they waited too long. There was the dress to pick out, flowers to sort, tablecloths… fine china, crystal champagne flutes. No, no, no. Lucy couldn't breathe today, and this was her way of trying to escape.
The brandy was sweet on her tongue, and it left a fire in its wake down her throat. She scrunches her nose at it, because this is her first taste of brandy. Her father always liked it… maybe it wasn't just anyone's drink. But she just needed something.
"You look rather odd drinking that." A man says to her, and Lucy abruptly turns her head to meet his eye.
Striking emerald green. Haunting, even. Lucy feels her guard being thrown up, and there is a red flag rearing an ugly head around him. What's more… he is devilishly handsome, with an evil smirk. Lucy never talks to strangers in bars. Except today.
"I have a boyfriend." Fiancé.
Riveted, the man gives her a throaty laugh in response.
That was the first time she saw Loki.
Lucy scrunches into a ball on her bed, pushing the sheets away, because her body temperature is risen. She feels sick to her stomach and it's heightened by the pain in her limbs. This isn't right, this is cold, and this is unwanted. Her body tells her to run to the bathroom – empty the contents threatening to exit anyways. She doesn't want to go – because Lucy can't move.
She hates this. She hates being a prisoner.
However, suddenly, something does happen, and someone does come in. Despite the pain, despite the unsettling need to vomit, Lucy sits pin straight, and with fearful eyes, she watches the door open, and the light flicker on. Is he back? What does he want now… why won't he let her go home?
Rampant thoughts are brought to a curious end at the sight of a woman (with hair so blonde, that it's almost white) gracefully walking in, and she smiles cautiously at Lucy. Who is she? Is she going to rescue me?
"…"
This woman with the nearly white hair, and alabaster skin to match, is holding fresh linens – or at least that's what it looks like to Lucy's eyes. Her smile emits comfort, solace, and Lucy feels her spine loosen, and her heart slow a little.
Nothing in this room, or wherever Lucy really is can bring the comfort that would come with being set free. Lucy is stuck on her not wanting to be there in the first place. She pulls her legs to her chest when the woman is at the side of the bed. Don't touch me, stay away!
"I am your maidservant, please do not be alarmed."
How can you say that… when you must know that I am a prisoner here!
Lucy felt betrayal, but she did not know why. How would this maidservant be able to break her out of her prison, and release her back to her life, to her true solace? Lucy's eyes prickle with tears, and she reduces to a withered mess on the bed. All she wants to do is sob. All she wants to do is make this woman, and him disappear for good.
Lucy returns home with the nagging feeling that she is being watched, and she wonders if the man at the bar has followed her. However, whenever she turns her head to look over her shoulder, she sees nothing, and there were only so many places that a man could hide in broad daylight without being noticed. Her house was base, and a goal to lock herself inside of safely.
Lucy wastes no time locking the bolt, and shedding herself of the wary feeling that clouded her. Richie is there, in the foyer, grinning in delight that she has returned. He sets down the book in his hands, and takes his beloved into his arms.
"Hello, Richie." Lucy breathes, loosely wrapping her arms around his waist, and does not lose the discomfort in her features. This makes Richie question her demeanor.
"What is the matter?"
"I just have a bad… I…" Lucy knows she probably shouldn't tell Richie about the man at the bar, due to the fact that Richie is terrible at keeping information to himself. Her parents would know in a matter of seconds, and that's not what Lucy needed shortly after her encounter.
The next day, Lucy still can't seem to shake the previous day's feeling washing over her. As she drives to the office, she feels it. She knows something is haunting her, and now Lucy wants to know why she has become the target of such strange feeling. Lucy wishes she would have never went to that bar, met that man… looked into his piercing emerald green eyes. Wickedness, lust, and sick desire. That's all she gathered when she thought back on him.
Why her? Why Lucy of all the women in New York?
"Loki sent me to care for you while he is… absent." Lucy can't read this woman's expression. It's as if she is talking expressionlessly – because no matter how much her lips move, her features do not. Her voice is soft, but…. Lucy screws her eyes shut at the mention of his name.
"Why does he care?" Lucy hears herself ask, not recognizing her own voice. Scratchy, hoarse… she opens her eyes once more, but just barely. "Why does he want me here?"
"I cannot answer those questions. I have brought you a new gown, and underthings. Put them on. Loki requires that you are clean. We do not want to upset him."
I want to go home, I don't want to please this heathen….
The maidservant leaves too early. Lucy feels like she's missed her chance to escape, and that makes her feel even worse than she already did. As if Lucy had fathomed that possible… She stares down at the linens, and doesn't want to listen to anything the woman has told her. If she rebels, will that make consequences dire? Lucy decides not to listen in the end. Exhaustion slips its way into her body, and Lucy surrenders to it.
Only to be awakened by him… By Loki. A seething Loki, a Loki who yanks her up by her forearm, and shakes her awake, but not as harshly as Lucy could have been shaken. Her eyes flutter open, and are hardly able to adjust to the light again, before Lucy cries out, and struggles to wrench her arm away. To just get away in general. No, no, Loki, go away, leave me be!
"You've not put on the gown I had sent down to you." Loki says through his breath. Thankfully, he drops Lucy back to the bed, and she scrambles backwards until her back is greeted by the cold headboard.
Lucy doesn't want to speak to him, she only wants to hide from him. She foolishly thinks that being in a ball will make her disappear, but, if this were a nightmare, Lucy would have already woken from it.
"You're defiant, Lucy."
He follows her, stalks her – knows what she is doing when she does it, and who she is with. Anyone with a normal frame of mind would claim him psychotic, but Loki was a predator. He had prey, and it was the blonde sitting at her breakfast nook at eight in the morning, Midgardian time. She has been doing this for days now. He only knows this, because of how long he keeps watching her – and ever since she spoke to him in the bar, he has been unable to keep himself from thinking about her. Maybe he is sick – maybe there is a chemical balance being disturbed.
Loki has never felt this much darkness inside himself for some time. He can only think about what it will be like to have this human woman for his own. Pluck her from her routine, and whisk her off to some unknown realm, unknown to her at least. He's tired of being lonely. He's tired of being left unsatisfied by his own routine… so he thinks it will be okay to steal this pretty little wall flower. Because that's all she seems to be. No matter how important she might be to her family, or that blond boy that keeps following her around when he is home. No matter what he will do to ruin her.
Loki has always been selfish, even before the disturbance. He supposes it's because while his brother is able to find willing females to fawn over him, Loki is left with the distasteful lot of Asgardian women who would only compete with him, not submit to him. Inside, there is a part of Loki that tells him this is not smart. He should leave this woman alone, and resume his life back on his own realm. Not play with humans, whose lives are fleeting – like the blink of an eye. She is just a heartbeat, and a breath of air, for a split moment. She would probably break under the most meager amount of pressure.
So, why does Loki intend on this woman, this girl, Lucy?
She captivates him. She fascinates him. Why? Loki shudders to elaborate on the topic. But, he must have her, and have her he would…
Lucy…
"There will be consequences each time you disobey me." Loki says in a whisper. He casts his eyes in a different direction, hands twitching at his sides, "I will draw you a bath, and you will cleanse yourself before you put on the clothing I sent for you."
I don't want to do anything you tell me to… Lucy thinks, but never has the valor to retort. She just sits there, ready to sob, ready to be put under whatever means of torture Loki plans to inflict on her.
Lucy can feel it. Eyes. Something lurking, because it's constant behind her back, where ever she roams. She's not daft – she knows something is after her. Lucy fears for her life, and does not tell her parents, nor Richie – she finds it unnecessary to burden them. Lucy wasn't thinking it through thoroughly. She had no idea that actions would be taken, and that she would be taken for real. Lucy just prays, every second, of every day, that this something leaves her alone eventually.
The bath is being drawn, but Lucy doesn't want to do that either. She stares at the bathroom doorway, and can hear the water sloshing, and smells the oils that are being dumped in. It smells wonderful, but Lucy can only think about how badly she wishes this could be ersatz. Loki comes out of the bathroom once the water is silent, and stares at Lucy before he grabs her forearm, and hoists her off the bed.
Lucy's legs buckle, sending her almost crumpling to the floor. She whines in protest, and the noise startles her, because Loki's reaction is swift, and disapproving. He glares at her, hoists her again, though her legs feel like jelly. That, or Lucy is deliberately defying him again – which is what Loki assumes. He is mostly correct. Lucy doesn't want this… how many times can one person think this to herself, or show it with her actions? Lucy prefers the maidservant to this monster.
Monster…
Lucy runs, she runs with her Nike's pounding the cold cement beneath them. The crisp fall air is piercing her lungs, but she enjoys it. She likes the adrenaline created by this exertion. It keeps her mind off the obvious, and she is blissfully ignorant. Lucy has her earbuds in – she is listening to John Mayer. This is where she goes to be free. Running.
However, this lingering fear is still nagging at the back of her mind, the back of her throat. She can't shake it.
That's because Loki is always watching her. Waiting. Waiting…
Monsters don't wait long, and Loki is no exception…. But, it's not for days until he does strike. She runs, a lot, and that pleases Loki – because that means she must have the stamina (as much as a human can compared to an Asgardian) to endure what he plans for her.
It's time. Loki says to himself, watching as Lucy circles Central Park.
He runs, now, too. Lucy is quick to notice – recognizing Loki's face immediately. So, she sprints, full on, and her music device clatters to the cement in a mad scramble. Loki is thrilled. He will enjoy this immensely – because he will catch her. He has been waiting too long not to.
As she continues to run from him, Loki can hear her whimpering. She is praying, to whatever God there might be available to Midgardians. He wastes no time trying to decipher that, because his goal is set on taking her away… perhaps for the rest of her human life.
Pungent – there are strange aromas in this park, that fail to compare to the aroma of fear that leaks out from Lucy the further she runs – the further they run.
Perhaps it's like a movie set, when the fog swoops in, and Lucy is suddenly amoung a vast array of trees, and leaves, and twisted roots. She doesn't recall Central Park ever being so dreadful – and she is unbeknownst to the illusions that Loki has cast down. He has very high hopes – hopes that will be rewarded very soon.
Lucy falls to the ground, and the breath is extracted from her lungs. She chokes as she inhales, and tries to stand up straight again. Loki's illusions scare her once more – and down goes Lucy all over again.
This is it. Loki bites his bottom lip.
"There is nothing you can do to stop this, my dear." You are mine, now.
End Chapter